


A flame burns bright in Osaka

by Shuura



Series: A flame burns bright Verse [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Boys Kissing, Loneliness, M/M, Making Out, Managing that nice young adult life, Mentions of Atsumu, Non-Explicit Sex, Onigiris, Osamu being a kind and warm human being that he promised he will be, Touch-Starved, Tsukishima being a young adult, and having an existential crisis halfway through university
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:53:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23435722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shuura/pseuds/Shuura
Summary: Oh, to be a firefly, just to live a few weeks without any worries and enjoying its short life to the fullest.Tsukishima is going through some tough times, mentally, and an unexpected meeting with one Miya Osamu makes the times a little bit less tough. And a lot warmer.
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Tsukishima Kei
Series: A flame burns bright Verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1808578
Comments: 17
Kudos: 101





	A flame burns bright in Osaka

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, welcome to this amazing ship that sneaked up on me out of nowhere. 
> 
> I made my love for Tsuki known everywhere I can, but liking Osamu has been a new thing and because his anime debut is fast approaching I thought, hey, I wanna think more about him and his personality. I reread the manga and there so many things I love about his character, but mostly his love of food and his promise that he will be the kindest person he can be to balance Atsumu's nasty personality. And he's a pretty chill and laid-back guy, so I thought hmmm, how about I put him in a situation with our local tightly-wound over-thinker Tsukishima?
> 
> I hope you like the results and enjoy this story just a little bit!
> 
> (psss, more ramblings about them in the end notes)

Tsukishima didn’t have a goal or a dream to chase. He didn’t even know how it felt to have one.

There were things every japanese person was expected to achieve. Be polite, study hard, get into a good university, get a good job. Your value was measured in your usefulness to society. And you were to become another cog in the machine. Fame or success wasn’t your reward for meeting the expectations, acceptance was. A respectable member of the society as many others.

There were things expected of men. Build a house, plant a tree, raise a child. Have a wife who cooks for you everyday and minds your home when you’re killing yourself with overtime in an firm that cares more about what you produce that who you really are. You don’t need a personality for work. Well, it certainly helps if you’re good looking. And you played a sport in high school or college, so you’re coworkers can asks why you don’t have a girlfriend yet, with that volleyball muscles and that angel face.

There were things Tsukishima’s family expected of him. To keep in contact with them. To call once a week. To meet for dinner once in a while. To help with the chores at home when he visited. To play volleyball with his brother on his day off.

His friends also had expectations for him. There weren’t many people he could really call friends. Yamaguchi, Yachi. Maybe the Freak Duo. The rest of Karasuno. He didn’t keep in contact with most of them. There was maybe a call or an email for birthdays and New Years. Maybe not even that.

The only people he consistently met and talked with were his teammates from Sendai Frogs, Yamaguchi and Yachi. He usually didn’t call first, didn’t ask to meet for lunch or a study session. But it was expected of him, so he made the effort to meet or talk those few times a week.

The rest of the time he was in his classes, at volleyball practise or holed up in his small apartment studying or at work. 

Sometimes when he and Yamaguchi were both busy with exams or university Tsukishima could go days without any meaningful human contact and his voice would break when he tried to answer a question his captain asked him or order a tea in a coffee shop down the street.

He used to think Yamaguchi was clinging onto him, because he was afraid to make other friends but lately Tsukishima considered that he did that because he knew Tsukishima would be alone otherwise. Everyone always thought Tsukishima was the one who pulled Yamaguchi everywhere, but the fact was that he was the one trailing like a puppy after Yamaguchi, doing things he would never bother with otherwise.

And after years of friendship Tsukishima knew Yamaguchi well. He knew what was expected of him in their friendship. And that was both comfortable and worrying.

_ It was expected of him _ , it was a thought often on his mind those days.

Tsukishima drifted through life with the direction of the current.

He did things that were expected to him with the small bouts of real excitement for small things in between. He had no goals or dreams. He didn’t plan for his future. He wasn’t even particularly interested in anything.

He felt like a void sometimes, absorbing everything around him with no aspirations of his own.

Yamaguchi had a lot more friends besides Tsukishima. He was friendly with his classmates and professors. And lately the more he invited Tsukishima to hang out, Tsukishima couldn’t help but notice how much they were drifting apart. How Yamaguchi and Yachi, his only two friends, were drifting closer day by day. How Tsukishima was the third wheel, looking from outside at their stammering, blushing, their whispering and stolen glances. He couldn’t look too long at that.

There was a satisfaction in him that they were into each other and not someone from outside. So Tsukishima didn’t have to expand his social circle and share his friends with absolute strangers that he could hate.

There was another ugly part of him that hated that they were looking at each other more than they were looking at him. He was never the most talkative and they were doing all the talking, but lately the inside jokes they shared and references Tsukishima didn’t understand left a bitter taste in his mouth. 

He went home one night after they grabbed a ramen, the three of them. He showered, brushed his teeth and went to bed. He ended up staring at the ceiling way too long, for the first time deliberately thinking what was expected of him in a situation like that.

If they got together it would leave him as the odd man out, the third wheel. He was already that. It didn’t mean he had to let go of them entirely, but it meant he would inevitably had to let go of parts of them at some point. They had little free time as it was and they would want to spend it together as much as possible. And Tsukishima didn’t know if he could take it being dragged into one of their dates, the only thing keeping them from actually calling them dates.

And he would have to continue to do that - letting go was a part of being an adult, after all. They couldn’t hang out everyday anymore. They had their separate lives.

It felt like everyone was aware of that but it only hit Tsukishima in the middle of his second year at university. That his separate life had been filled with distractions - mountains of history books, a small apartment with a broken heating, volleyball practises three times a week at 6 am and occasional lunch or call with his friends. Outside of the distractions he was cold. He’s been feeling more and more cold as the summer was turning into fall. 

It wasn’t like he couldn’t survive on his own. Fireflies could emit light on their own, but it’s still a cold light.

He was relying on other people’s lights to keep him warm for the longest time and he didn’t ever realize.

For the first time in his life he accepted an invitation to a party his year was hosting once a month. There was just about a dozen of them, they went to a barbeque and their Ancient History professor, Fukunaga, treated them all to drinks in a bar later.

“Wow, Tsukishima, wasn’t expecting at all for you to actually show up!” Hayakawa said, swapping places with another student who was sitting next to him at the beginning.

She was the one who invited him. She was a course rep, cheerful and out-spoken. Everyone were always invited on those sorts of gathering via History group chat, Tsukishima muted it a long time ago and looked at it only when someone tagged his name. Because of that and because of he wasn’t the most friendly person in real life too people generally left him to his own devices. Hayakawa made a point to invite him in person, though, to every event their major had. Was it out of pity or because she liked him, he had no idea.

He knew he was attractive. People were never afraid to praise his height and his smooth skin, his double eyelid and big eyes, and his  _ angel face _ , whatever that meant. He definitely brought too much attention for his own liking. There was usually one or two girls who bothered enough to invite him somewhere. He even had a handful of confessions during those one and a half year, despite thinking people didn’t bother with that in university.

He never thought about dating too much before. He never understood the guys obsession with girls in high school. He couldn’t imagine himself being Tanaka who had posters of half-naked women in his room and always started the conversations about things like dating or sex. Or boobs. Boobs were apparently a popular topic among teenage boys.

Tsukishima glanced at Hayakawa’s boobs from out of a corner of his eye. They were alright he supposed, in the bright tank top and a cardigan atop it, not too big, not too small. What were the criteria for good boobs again? 

They were proportional to her built, Tsukishima decided, when she pulled his hand on one of them to encourage him to touch her. She kissed him out of nowhere after they talked for almost half of the night. The rest of their classmates were either too drunk to care, asleep or dancing to the 80s disco songs, japanese and foreign after one another, including professor Fukunaga.

Tsukishima’s hand was on her boob and he was mostly not moving and Hayakawa decided it was the best moment to add her tongue to the mix.

He kissed her back and it was a weird feeling, to have tongues meet. He never kissed anyone in the 20 years of his life. He had no idea if he should have. Yamaguchi had a girlfriend in the summer between their second and third year of high school, so they probably kissed. Tsukishima didn’t feel any particular way about kissing. There wasn’t a time or an occasion for that before. He didn’t go out and his circle of friends was tight. He didn’t drink enough to make mistakes or enough to bear the awful techno or dubstep of parties without his ears bleeding.

Now he decided that kissing felt weird. And that he swiped his tongue like Hayakawa did and squeezed her boob, while a some people hooted and whistled, only to be distracted by something else 2 seconds later.

He counted maybe to ten, barely, and decided it wasn’t a good idea. He pushed Hayakawa back a bit, hands on her bare shoulders, her cardigan somewhere on the seat beside her. Her eyes were glassy and she smelled of beer, while he was completely sober. It really wasn’t good idea.

He took her home. She was living on campus and his own apartment was close anyway. She kissed him again, a chaste peck on the lips as a thanks and a  _ please don’t mention it tomorrow or ever again _ .

He came home at 3 in the morning and thought,  _ huh, wasn’t kissing supposed to make him feel something more. _

The next days were excruciating. Because he wasn’t going out much, everyone assumed it was suddenly okay to talk to him. Not only that, but mention that party and spread all sorts of rumors about him and Hayakawa, despite both of them telling anyone who was willing to listen that nothing had happened between them and he just took her home because she was too drunk to stand. Hayakawa herself was avoiding his eyes and pretended as if nothing had happened, but the awkwardness between them was suffocating.

“I’m never going to a party again,” Tsukishima said instead of a greeting when Yamaguchi called. Tsukishima didn’t really like to say hello or goodbye anyway and Yamaguchi was used to just picking up their conversations where they left of last time they talked or just started talking about something or other.

Yamaguchi sputtered and Tsukishima’s headphones cracked with it and the sudden movement of him positioning his phone to see Tsukishima’s scowl.

“You went to a party?” Yamaguchi asked horrified, “Why? What happened?”

“Yeah, my major has those barbeques, I thought that sounded okay to accept and see what’s it all about. But we just ended up going to a bar literally an hour in and it started to get worse. Flashing lights, loud music, drunk people dancing. Ugh. There was no way to talk.”

“That’s usually what a party is, sorry to break it to you, Tsukki.”

“Shut up, Yamaguchi.”

“Sorry. But  _ there was no way to talk _ ! You came there to actually talk to people. I don’t know if I should be more proud or worried.”

“Neither. It was awful.”

“Hey, no. Maybe you just went to a bad party. Or something happened?”

Tsukishima considered telling him about the kiss and the rumors, but decided against that. That would make him worry too much and he had to focus on studying for his tests. “Just in general,” he said instead.

“Try to not let it discourage you, though. Maybe just go with someone you know or something, so you have someone to talk to.” Yamaguchi was spinning in his chair and suddenly stopped and grinned. “And actually drink something.”

Tsukishima scowled. “You know very well I drink on kahlua and milk and I refuse to even entertain the idea of drinking piss from a can, thank you. Besides drinking with strangers is never a good idea. You make stupid decisions you regret in the morning.”

Yamaguchi snickered under his breath, his freckled face coming closer to the screen. His hair were getting long enough to flop on his face and he had to tie them with the bright yellow hair ties Yachi gave him for his birthday, because both she and Tsukshima knew Yamaguchi was unsure if he should cut them. 

Tsukishima’s own hair were covering his big forehead and too small ears and he rather liked it that way. 

“You know, when you say it like that, it sounds really dirty.” Tsukishima tried to protest, but Yamaguchi didn’t let him get a word in. He became pretty good at that. “But the fact that we both know you just mean puking into the toilet at 5 in the morning, is even more hilarious.”

Tsukishima rolled his eyes. They were never gonna forget that, it was stuck to him for life now. 

The time the Karasuno third-years, after graduation had a little party in Tsukishima’s house. It couldn’t even be called a party, his mum left Tsukishima the keys and slept in Akiteru’s apartment for the night, while the five of them got absolutely shit-faced after a few beers and Akiteru’s hidden sake. They were playing board games and after they said goodbyes to Yachi, who had to go back home, Hinata and Kageyama ended up tossing to each other outside, because of course they had no thoughts in their heads except volleyball. They got so sick after only a few minutes, Yamaguchi and Tsukishima had to drag them back to the house, and they rolled their futons on the floor in the living room for them to sleep in. 

Despite them all feeling like shit the morning after, Tsukishima was the one puking his guts out into the toilet with Yamaguchi half-laughing, half-worrying and patting him on the back, while the Idiot Duo were trying - and failing - to reassure him. They all ended up laughing at his pain in the end, with Tsukishima sending them glares over the bowl of the toilet.

After that they ended up talking about their classes and complained how little sleep they were getting and how much work they had to do still, knowing they couldn’t do much about it.

Yamaguchi was holding his little pocket calendar he got from the stationery shop Akiteru worked at and hummed.

“Oh! Don’t you guys have a game two weeks from now?”

“Yeah, in Osaka,” Tsukishima answered. He was bundled into a blanket and hunched over his little table, doodling little crows all over his Modern History notes. “We’re going away for the weekend, getting back sunday evening. Some of the others have jobs and classes Monday, so only volleyball this time.”

They always made reservations for an extra day to go around the cities they had matches in. Tsukishima usually went out with them to eat but outside of that he stuck to himself. He either ended up checking out museums or old bookshops by himself.

“But you don’t have classes until Wednesday, right?” Yamaguchi asked carefully, in that tone that he already had a plan in his head and wanted to mellow Tsukishima into agreeing.

“I still have to study. And I’m starting the internship a week after, so I have to sort out all my classes until then.”

“But, you know, you could stay an extra day, maybe. It’s Osaka, Tsukki. Plenty of old places to visit there and people to meet.”

“I’m not interested in meeting old people. I’m gonna work at a museum, it’s gonna be all old people and kids from then.”

“You know what I meant! I’m not making you do anything, just think about it,” Yamaguchi shrugged. Tsukishima was waiting for a  _ but  _ and he got it. “Buuut I heard they have good parties there. And maybe you’re so tense and don’t like anyone, because you know all those people. It’s easier to talk to strangers, sometimes. You can be whoever you want.”

“Are you trying to tell me to pretend to be someone else?”

“You’re so stubborn, it’s unreal. Be Tsukishima Kei who doesn’t want to kill people before he even met them.”

“But I want to do that. It’s my default state: trying to get rid of humanity so nature can thrive.”

Yamaguchi laughed and yawned greatly halfway through. Tsukishima yawned because of him, too and they both chuckled at that.

“I have to go report to Yachi while I’m still functioning properly, then sleep. See you later, Tsukki.”

Tsukishima clicked the red button first, before opening the app to see his flight details. He clicked his nails on the table a few times, before locking his phone again and getting back to his notes.

***

Tsukishima didn’t change his routine much after his realization. He couldn’t really afford it. But he didn’t purposefully refuse human contact anymore. He even invited Koganegawa to lunch when he saw him in the supermarket on Sunday. He’d seen him every Sunday around the same time but he always pretended he didn’t see him up until Koganegawa said  _ Hi! _ and he was forced to awkwardly say  _ hi  _ back.

They placed their grocery bags on the floor next to their chairs and ordered something to sandwiches and some tea. They talked about the usual stuff, the school, their jobs, volleyball.

“You know, I was thinking about joining some local team, actually!” Koganegawa said after finding out Tsukishima played for Sendai Frogs. “I miss it a lot.”

“You just said you meet up with your old teammates to play.”

“Yeah, but that’s, like, once every few weeks. I miss the late night practises, the runs so long you’re almost puking your guts out by the end, the camaraderie!”

Tsukishima scowled. “Can’t relate.”

“And the rush of an actual game, you know! Setting a good ball for someone to score the deciding point of a match. The excitement, the purpose… Hey, Tsukki, when do you have tryouts? I might actually do it.”

“Have to check. I’ll get back to you on that.”

“Yeah, alright. Give me your phone, then.”

“Why?”

Koganegawa laughed and yanked Tsukishima’s phone out of his hand. He quickly put his number and email in there. Tsukishima looked warrily at the Kogane written as the name of the contact.

“Here you go! You could also accept my friend invite on facebook, you know.”

“No, I haven’t used it since I was 13. Besides, no one uses facebook anymore.”

“Hey, I use it!”

“Yes, just like my mom and her dentist.”

“Hinata said you see all the messages in your Karasuno group chat!”

“Doesn’t mean anything. I refuse to get LINE, so they moved onto Messenger to harass me.”

And they figured out how to lure him in, so they tag him on the most stupid stuff, because that’s the only time he actually looks through the five different group chats he’s a part of. He got so annoyed at Tanaka’s stupid memes about people with glasses, so he stopped looking at the chat for a long while.

Koganegawa laughed his ass of at that, while Tsukishima didn’t find it funny in the slightest. They said their goodbyes and promised to meet again sometime. Tsukishima didn’t know if he would do that. Honestly, being social drained him more than anything. It wasn’t bad, but it left him more tired and annoyed than he normally was.

Not for the first time it made him think he just wasn’t cut for being social. That maybe it wasn’t for him.

On the other hand, when Koganegawa send him a video of Futakuchi trying to teach Aone how to floss and getting irritated when after a few tries he could to it better than him, it made Tsukishima laugh. He just woke up after studying for most of the night, buried under books and papers, his neck stiff as hell from laying his head on the table. Aone flossing was something he didn’t even know he needed in his life. The guys was extremely good at that but doing it with that stone cold face was too much to handle.

He texted back an unimpressed emoji and went to take his test, his chest and mind a little bit lighter.

***

They had a good lunch in the hotel restaurant, then practise, then they took the earlier bus to the main arena they were supposed to be playing, because the captain was worried they were going to be late otherwise.

They had some time before to have a look around. Tsukishima changed into his green monstrosity of a uniform and was going to find a place to sit and rest his eyes for a second. But he was dragged with the rest of his team out of the changing rooms and into the crowd. Well, he wasn’t as much dragged as he let himself be dragged. He was really sacrificing his peace for this new socializing thing, wasn’t he.

Tsukishima walked around in his own pace, while his teammates rushed forward, excited about all the food and already planning where they were going to drink after the matches were over.  _ Adults were talking about alcohol a lot, weren’t they, _ Tsukishima noticed for the hundredth time. Was being a casual alcoholic required part of being grown up? 

“Nice jersey!” A voice said next to him and Tsukishima’s head whipped in the direction of whoever said that, not only for startling him out of his thoughts but also because he had had enough jokes being made about that damn ugly green color to last him a lifetime and a half.

He wasn’t expecting to meet a pair of familiar eyes on a familiar face.

One of the Miya twins. 

Behind a food stall with the name Onigiri Miya written on it. 

Huh.

His eyes widened momentarily as he also recognized Tsukishima. “Karasuno’s middle blocker,” he said, his voice deep and calm and Tsukishima instantly knew he was dealing with Osamu. He remembered hearing Atsumu joined Bokuto’s team, MSBY Black Jackals, a while ago. On the picture he still had light hair, just a better dye job than in high school. The man in front of him had his natural black hair hidden under a black cap. Shorter than before, by the looks of it.

Tsukishima didn’t let himself show how surprised he was that he was remembered. Hinata and Kageyama often stole the spotlight, and Tsukishima was perfectly fine with that. He liked being the Normal Guy, underestimated and unassuming, until he stuffed the most cocky spikers from the rival teams until they had to acknowledge him.

He worked his ass off in the match with Inarizaki, he better be remembered.

Miya put three onigiris in a bag and send a customer off with a wave. He fixed his cap - and yes his bangs were definitely shorter than in high school - and turned to look at Tsukishima.

“Eleven,” he said and Tsukishima frowned. “The number of your jersey in high school. Eleven, right? Like mine.”

Tsukishima was a bit taken aback by that, but he nodded. Now that he thought about it, yeah, they shared a jersey number in that match. Was that how Miya remembered him? By the number of his jersey?

“Tsukishima,” he said. He wasn’t sure why he even did that.

“Yeah, Tsukishima. Still playing, then?”

Tsukishima looked down at his uniform, at the number 17 on his chest. “Ah. Yes.”

“Cool.”

Miya went to the onigiri display and rearranged them to make nice straight rows. He began to wipe the counter, the muscles in his arm flexing with every swipe. He maybe didn’t play anymore, but he had to spend his fare share of time in the gym.

Tsukishima couldn’t help but blurt a thing that was at the forefront on his mind, “And you’re, um, selling food?”

“Just onigiri. Don’t have the patience for the whole package. Maybe someday.”

It definitely wasn’t a recent thing. And it was so specific Tsukishima was equal parts flabbergasted and curious.

“Is that something you wanted to do? Besides volleyball?” Tsukishima added as an afterthought. He was Atsumu Miya’s brother, after all. Maybe he wasn’t as flashy as him but he had to at least entertain the idea of going pro.

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Oh, and how did-”

“Is that an interview?” Miya asked, putting the cloth he was wiping the counter with over his shoulder and crossed his arms, leaning his hip on the counter.

Tsukishima could feel the ringing of mortification in his ears, so he didn’t even realize Miya was more amused than annoyed or angry. His face just didn’t change much. Seeing Tsukishima’s embarrassment his expression changed to smug for some reason. He leaned closer, hand on the counter, as he said, “I’m gonna have to charge ya for it, Tsukishima.”

A shock went through his whole body. He was struck by lighting just with those few words.

No, it was more than that. It was the raspy voice, the half-lidded eyes, the tone that was definitely  _ implying _ .

Tsukishima couldn’t move a finger for what felt like ages. His head was swimming and his cheeks felt hotter than ever before. And the worst thing was that he couldn’t move his gaze away from Miya, no matter what kind of red alerts his brain was sending to the rest of his body.

Whatever was on his face, in his wide eyes, it made Miya’s gaze more intense. He cocked his head and swiped his tongue over his chapped lower lip, Tsukishima’s eyes following its movement like the traitors they were.

“Tsukishima! Warm-up in 3 minutes!” Some of his teammates called.

Whatever weird tension was between them passed. There was something left, though. The knowledge that made Tsukishima’s mouth feel dry as a desert.

Miya was the one to break eye contact first and moved back, lifting his cap to have the other hand messing up his hair. It seemed like a nervous habit, more than anything else.

“You like onigiris?”

“I’m not the biggest fan--”

“Blasphemy.”

“But I don’t mind them once in a while.”

“That’s all I ask.”

Tsukishima’s muscles began to work again. His heart was still thudding in his chest.

“Favorite flavor?” Miya asked, taking a look at the display and making Tsukishima follow his gaze.

Surely he wasn’t trying to find out if he had Tsukishima’s favorite flavor there. Was he?

“Sweet,” Tsukishima said, it sounded curt and cold, but Miya either didn’t notice or it didn’t bother him. Tsukishima glanced at the display to read the available flavors and said the one he didn’t mind the least. “Umeboshi is alright.”

Miya hummed and nodded to himself. “I can work with that.” He turned to look at Tsukishima and said, “Drop back after your match. There’ll be something tasty waiting for ya. On the house.”

Tsukishima ignored the  _ implying  _ tone again and said, “That’s terrible way to run a business. To just give away your products for free to anyone.”

“Not anyone.” Another shout of  _ Tsukishima! _ was heard. Another customer was coming up to the stall and before he greeted her, he said to Tsukishima, “See ya later, Tsukishima.”

He was awfully confident in Tsukishima’s decision. Presumptuous. He was  _ the  _ Miya Atsumu’s twin after all. They were both wild and proud. Osamu was just hiding it better.

Tsukishima didn’t bother replying and just walked off. 

***

They lost the match, but it was a fair fight. They almost got the other team in the second set, but they’re spikers were persistent and seemed to have too much energy to spare. They got them quickly and by the time any of them could blink, it was all over.

Despite their loss, Tsukishima felt what most of them did - satisfaction at having played their best. They didn’t lose for the first time and certainly not the last and they all dealt with the loss on their own terms. The locker room was quiet only for a moment. After Tsukishima exited the showers, his teammates were back at their bullshit again. There was that underlying regret there, but they decided to deal with it like men - and that meant drinking, apparently.

There was a small shopping bag sitting on the bench near his locker.

“What’s that?” Tsukishima his asked his teammate mildly, despite exactly knowing what was inside.

“What? Oh. A guy was loitering around outside and asked me to give it to you. Looked pretty familiar but I can’t put my finger on it… An old teammate or something? He looked your age.”

“Or something.” Tsukishima said, opening a bag to see five onigiri packages. There were three different flavors and two  _ umeboshi  _ ones. And a small post it note. “We played each other in high school.”

“A rival giving you onigiri for free?” Someone whistled. “I wanted to throttle most of them when I used to play.”

A few others laughed and it turned into a conversation about their own high school years and how every volleyball player thought at one point in their lives that basketball players annoyed the hell out of them.

Tsukishima bit on his thumb and reread the note. He didn’t know what to think about it. 

The note said:  _ Could make something sweet tomorrow, if you’re up for it _ , followed by a mobile number.

Osamu Miya was never afraid to spike any ball, now it was Tsukishima choice if he wanted to block it or recieve it. And he hated receiving. He still had the most problems with it.

***

He went out with his teammates, more out of sense of duty than anything else. He didn’t particularly enjoy partying and after all the previous attempts he had a feeling he wouldn’t also enjoy this one. He did what he usually did in situations like those. The One Rule. One drink, one hour, then he went home. It worked for him. The first hour was the one when it was quiet enough for everybody to talk, then it started getting wild - which was the perfect point to go home. He didn’t enjoy drinking or getting drunk, too, and he hated when people tried to guilt him into it, no matter how well intentional the jabs were.

So, perfect solution.

He came back to his hotel room, took a shower to wash all of that days confusion and tiredness and that a little bit of regret that told him he could make that one block better, could go to the ball faster. Also his clothes were smelling like cigarette smoke, sake and sweat, and he felt like his body slowly started to seep in that smell. He put on a pair of fresh pyjama bottoms and too large shirt with a treasure map on it, and went to his bed to plug on his phone to the charger..

He shared the room with the four of his other teammates. They thankfully were still partying and Tsukishima knew not to expect them until at least 3 or 4, then they would stumble loudly shushing each other not to wake him up, then pass out on the floor and sleep until noon. By that point they all would have to grab a quick dinner and rush to the airport.

Tsukishima had his eye-mask and his trusty earplugs that got him through some tough times. Especially in his apartment. The couple from upstairs liked to have very loud sex at the weirdest hours.

Tsukishima looked at his phone. He answered some messages from Yamaguchi and Akiteru. He turned his other side, the cord of the charger resting on his cheek. He put the phone number in his contacts on the bus back, telling himself it was better than to lose the note.

He guessed that was his answer even before he got a chance to think about it. That he worried about losing the number.

If he thought about it too closely, like he always thought about everything, he would never do anything about it.

But he didn’t think. For once in his life he thought  _ fuck it _ , he already got out of his comfort zone. 

And, as Yamaguchi said, it was Osaka and Osaka didn’t know who Tsukishima Kei was. Osaka didn’t expect anything from him. Osaka didn’t give a single shit.

***

The hotel wasn’t the best one, but the beds were comfortable and the pillows and sheet fluffy enough to make Tsukishima wake up disoriented at 11. He immediately felt guilty for sleeping that long. He was feeling great and more well rested than he did in  _ months _ , but he promised himself to wake up at a normal hour and go through his notes he had on his phone, before doing anything else after.

It made his mood sour, even if he told himself it shouldn’t matter. It was even good for him. He usually slept maybe 5 hours on a good day, sometimes he had to function on 2 or 3. 5 was perfectly fine for his form and worked with his schedule. 13 hours was too much. No one slept for that long unless they had an accident or were on meds or something. Tsukishima didn’t have any excuses.

He took his vitamins like every morning, remembered to brush his teeth. He even took the pillow from the only unmade bed and gave to his teammate who was grumbling everything was too loud as he was curled up on the floor.

Never let it be said Tsukishima was always an asshole.

He spend the rest of the afternoon after his very late breakfast revising for the test on Wednesday. Then he packed his suitcase and moved to the smaller cheaper room, then went down to the lounge to send off his teammates, who were going to the airport.

He didn’t have to wait for a long time to spot a familiar figure walking in, phone in hand. Osamu Miya was dressed in a simple dark jeans and a black t-shirt with the little white onigiri on his left. His cap was tucked in the back pocket of his jeans. He raised his hand to go through his hair making it stand in different directions.

Their eyes met and Tsukishima heard a ping of his phone in his pocket. Osamu chuckled, pocketing his own phone. “That’d be me. Nice to see ya.”

It was all very casual. Osamu Miya’s attitude, posture, tone, everything screamed casual. Was it supposed to be so casual? Was Tsukishima only the one worrying?

And most importantly, how was he supposed to greet him?

“Likewise,” was what he ended up saying, too formal and cold.

Miya snickered quietly. He smelled like rice, spices and some woody cologne. He said he was going to pick Tsukishima up right after work, after all, so it shouldn’t be so surprising. It was a nice smell. 

“Come on. Let’s get out of here. My apartment isn’t too far from here.”

Tsukishima nodded dumbly and followed him out.

“D’ya mind if we pop up to the supermarket on the way?”

Tsukishima shook his head.

“Alright, I have a shiton of ingredients at home, but the best vegetables and fruit are fresh.”

Tsukishima hummed in response. They made their way to the train station, Tsukishima could read the sign. They hopped on the train, the afternoon rush left them no place to move. They ended up pressed together. Tsukishima pressed to the wall, Miya pressed to him.

“Hang on. Should get better after we hit the biggest stations,” Miya said, his lips brushing Tsukishima’s ear. It was nothing. It was just so Tsukishima could hear him over the noise of the people talking all around them. Yet Tsukishima’s breath hitched nonetheless.

By the time they actually reached Miya’s apartment, Tsukishima was ready for the ground to swallow him whole. They made some small talk for the past thirty minutes. Was it a mistake, after all? Tsukishima couldn’t help but wonder as Miya gestured for him to come first.

“Make yourself at home. D’ya mind if go shower real quick?” He asked, already halfway to the bedroom. His kicked off black sneakers in the middle of the genkan. Tsukishima toed off his own brown leather shoes and put them neatly by the door.

“And Tsukishima?” Miya was back and looking at him with a bit of amusement. “Try not to keel over while I’m in the shower, yeah?”   
Tsukishima scowled to mask his utter mortification. “Wasn’t planning to.”

Miya grinned at him. “Good. It’s not a cheap date show, ya don’t have to try and show me how nice and polite you are. I wouldn’t have asked ya out if I didn’t already like your attitude. And you don’t have to be so nervous. Nothing ya don’t wanna isn’t gonna happen.”

Tsukishima swallowed once and nodded. Miya nodded back and stalked back to the bathroom with a, “Feel free to snoop around.”

Tsukishima did exactly that. The apartment was modern with a few traditional accents here and there. The living room was small and neat, with a  _ chabudai  _ table pushed into a corner and a bookshelves. They were filled with manga - mostly shonen genre, but also a few romances here and there - and, to Tsukishima’s amusement, a nice collection of cookbooks, varying from old traditional japanese vietnamese and korean cuisine to Middle Eastern and western ones. Tsukishima opened one on a whim, the one with the sweets on the cover. And there, on the first page was the date of October 5, the year before, but that wasn’t the most interesting there. There was Atsumu Miya’s signature that looked more of an autograph taking up almost half a page, and above - the messily scribbled words:  _ TO MY #1 FAN ♡ _ .

Tsukishima couldn’t help but laugh.

He put the book back in its place and turned around. There was an archway that took him into the kitchen, which had to be the biggest room in the whole apartment. It had large windows on one wall that made the room bright and reflected the sun from the white walls and surfaces. It had to be the most sun Tsukishima had been subjected to since moving in to his little rat hole of an apartment.

There were some dirty dishes in a sink and the floor or the counters weren’t swiped up perfectly, but who even cared about that. The kitchen looked like it had its own soul, it had a feel of being the most used and cherished place. A temple, of sorts. A place of love made almost visible to the eye.

There were are sorts of vegetables and fruit in a bowl displayed on the counter. And the plants on the windowsill.

Tsukishima couldn’t help but come closer, to touch and smell different herbs that a person had to put so much care into. It made his chest fill with something warm, it made him breathless.

He looked outside, at the sky slowly turning orange and pink. At the streets below, where there was the little groceries they stopped by to but some fresh vegetables.

He almost flinched when he heart the bathroom door open, but made himself relax again. He had never been that jumpy all his life. And as Miya said, he had nothing to be nervous about. They were just going to eat dinner. Whatever was going to happen was their choice.

“Hey, wondered where you’ve gone.” Miya said, putting the grocery bag on the counter and pulling out bell peppers.

His hair was wet, little droplets of water making their way into the towel around his neck. Tsukishima had a sudden urge to bury his hand in those wet strands.

“So you’re really passionate about cooking, huh,” Tsukishima said, pinching a green leaf of one of the plants. In the reflection of the window he saw Osamu look at him briefly, before turning to start up on the curry he promised Tsukishima.

“I guess, yeah. I was always helping our mother with dinners, prepping bentos and all that. Our father was always working and ‘Tsumu was allergic to any domestic tasks. Still is. Makes this place a complete shithole in 5 seconds flat, when he visits.”

Despite shitting on his brother, his voice was fond. Tsukishima could relate. No one will probably find out how much he appreciated Akiteru, even the man himself.

“Does he live in Tokyo now? Or… wherever you’re from?”

Behind him there was a steady chop chop of the knife on the cutting board, as Tsukishima watched the sunset.

“Yep, Tokyo. We wanted to get out of Kobe forever. There’s that thing with cities and places you grew up in that’s just restricting. Or feels like. Depends on the person, I guess. You’re decided to stay a local boy, after all.”

“I always wanted to live in Tokyo,” Tsukishima answered, didn’t look back to see Miya’s reaction. He barely spoke about that to Yamaguchi.

“Why didn’t you go, then?” Miya’s voice was that steady tone, devoid of judgment whatsoever, that was becoming addicting.

“Many reasons. I always knew I’m going to stay in MIyagi. I know people there. It’s easy, familiar. I’m not sure I want to relearn a new city from scratch.”

“That’s the best part, though. I didn’t know shit about Osaka before I moved here on a two years ago on a whim. And this shithole really grew on me.”

Two years?

“So you went to university in Kobe?”

“I didn’t go anywhere, started working right after high school. When I had enough saved up, I packed my shit and moved here, got a nice job, saved up some more for my business.”

He didn’t go to university. Well, it wasn’t like everyone had to do it. But it was expected, wasn’t it. There was no chance his family just let him do it on a whim.

“There are a lot of different cooking courses, management too if you wanted to start your business. My friend’s parents own a restaurant and he had to a two years management course for them to sign the business onto him.”

“There’s a lot of paperwork to deal with a registered business, true, but I taught myself how to do that. And it all comes with experience. I never was the college boy type. Wouldn’t survive another three or four years of torture, high school was bad enough. So I just. Said fuck it. Yeah, my parents ripped me a new one while me piece of shit brother was laughing his ass off but it was never their decision to make. I’m the one who has to live my life, so. What about you?”

“I-” Tsukishima had no words in his throat to describe how that made him feel. How his mind started going a mile a minute. “I always like dinosaurs.”

“Cute,” Miya snickered and Tsukishima turned around to glare at him. When he was looking at MIya going from counter to counter to the stove, cooking so fast Tsukishima’s eyes could barely follow, he couldn’t look away. He leaned his back on the windowsill, hands in front of him. He was playing with his fingers, but he didn’t even realize he was doing it.

“It started with them. With me watching Godzilla and Jurassic Park, and it was a silly thing to like, but I was a kid, so.” Why was he justifying himself liking something again? Bad habit. “And it turned into me liking history. So that’s what I’m studying. I’m starting my internship in the museum next week. I’m playing in the local team, despite the horrible uniforms. That’s why I wanted to do.”

But there was something missing. And he didn’t know what.

“So why does it feel like everyone I know is moving forward and I’m just standing still?”

Miya turned to regard him with those dark, dark, dark eyes of his. He left the curry sauce cooking, the rice halfway to the rice cooker and took Tsukishima’s hands in his, holding them loosely in his. 

“I felt like that a lot, when I was playing volleyball at high school. It was something I loved, still is, and the team was great and even despite my piece of shit of a brother attitude, there was something like that here, you know,” he said.

He brought Tsukishima’s hand to his chest, left side. His thumb swiped over Tsukishima’s knuckles.

“It was when I was figuring myself out, when I knew what I want to do and I haven’t told anyone that, and it was all stewing inside me to the point of bursting. Then I told my brother and we beat the shit out of each other and I got into a fight with my parents and I shouted at all of them what I wanted to do. Told them to never compare me and ‘Tsumu again, because we’re two different people and not some sort of other half of the same person. To add salt to injury I might have yelled that I was bi. Probably the whole neighbourhood had heard about that.”

“They weren’t too pleased about that, I assume?”

Miya chuckled. “They weren’t. Mostly because I was disrespectful and because their perception of me and my life was suddenly crushed. No idea if it was the right thing to do at the time. And it didn’t feel for a while, because I was telling myself I was a disappointment to them. And yeah, I think what if, sometimes you just can’t help it. What if I went to university, what if I lived with my family, what if I went pro like ‘Tsumu. Maybe it would be fine. But now that I do what I love and live where I love and am who I want to be, it was worth it. To piss off some people, to cut some people from my life. It got me to the point where I fuck up I just laugh it off because in the end I’m gonna do what I want and it’s nobody's fucking business other than mine… And that’s probably shit advice but--”

“I didn’t ask for advice.” Tsukishima sniffed, once.

Miya sighed, his warm breath washed over Tsukishima’s face. “Good. My only skills are cooking and eating these days.”

“And spiking and setting.”

“And blocking.” 

Tsukishima scrunched his nose at that and Miya snickered.

“Okay, Mr. Middle Blocker, I trust your judgment. You stuffed some of my best spikes in that match, you know.”

“I was annoyed that you kept your cool all the time. The best part of volleyball for me has to be seeing my opponents faces when they can’t get through me. Especially cocky wing spikers.”

Miya laughed loudly at that and backed off to continue cooking. 

“You’re a little devil, aren’t ya. If that helps you I was never annoyed that people were just playing their best. I’m a pretty chill guy. There’s not a lot of situations where I lose my cool.”

“I get that.”

“How come? You’re such an open book, Tsukki. I can read everything on your face.”

Tsukishima felt his cheeks warming and cursed himself for it. There was that tone again.

“Don’t call me that,” he said, a bit too harshly. He read somewhere that when attacked, fireflies release drops of bitter and poisonous blood, so predators learn to avoid eating them. How was it that perfectly described his defense mechanism, he will never know.

“It’s just Tsukishima,” he said softer.

Miya didn’t tease him anymore and didn’t ask where the sudden tone came from, just nodded and started to stir the pot of the curry sauce.

Tsukishima bit his lip. He considered not mentioning it at all, but in his head that thought was at the front of his mind.

“How did your parents react? When you told them you were… bisexual?”

“They didn’t talk to me at all for a while, hoping I will apologize for yelling at them or something. Or for my life choices. But I didn’t and we slowly started talking again. My mom is pretty chill about it these days, my dad not so much and he refuses to acknowledge it still. But his opinion never really mattered too much for us anyway, so I don’t worry too much about it.”

“And your brother?”

“That’s a tough nut to crack. He said it’s not his business and he doesn’t care what I do, but then he asks stupid shit like if I have orgies here with both men and women or like it isn’t fair he can’t get dates while I’m spoiled for choice. He doesn’t have bad intentions, though, he’s just an idiot.”

“How does it feel to see his face on billboards or on tv?” Tsukishima asked. 

Miya shuddered and Tsukishima laughed at that. “I know that feeling,” he said. When he first had seen Kageyama on a ad before a move in the cinema, he thought he’s going to walk out of there before the film started. Kageyama was still painfully awkward and it was even more painful to watch.

“Have you told anyone?”

“No,” Tsukishima answered, knowing by the tone what Miya was asking. “It’s not anyone’s business.”

“Fair enough.”

And they left it at that.

“Have you ever been to a gay bar before?” 

Tsukishima almost walked straight into the fridge as he was on his way out of the kitchen. Miya laughed at him.

“I assume that means no. There’s a cool one downtown, could take you there tomorrow, if you have time to spare. Did you want to visit something specific?”

“History Museum,” Tsukishima mumbled, leaning on the archway.

“Of course. Nerd,” the words were amused and warm, and Tsukishima didn’t even feel the jab. “I know some places, if you want. There’s a couple museums and old things in general, too. Never had a reason to go to those before, but it’s never too late to learn.”

Tsukishima had to swallow twice before answering. “Y-yeah. Do you want me to set up the table?”

“Miya looked actually surprised at that, but smiled quickly, grateful. “Yeah, you can bring it to the middle of the room. There’s some cushions to sit on around, too. I’ll be just a minute here.”

Tsukishima did as told, escaping the kitchen. He had to get away for a second, to think, to breathe. He couldn’t believe he said all of those things to Osamu Miya. That it was so easy to do so.

They set up the curry and rice together and sat opposite each other. Tsukishima started eating and despite it being a dish he ate more times than he could count, it was unique and delicious. And it was coming from a person who paid more attention to sweet foods than any other. And Miya even made it mild for him, after Tsukishima told him he didn’t like spicy foods much.

“That’s very good, Miya,” he praised.

“Thanks. And call me Osamu. I didn’t get to tell you before.”

Tsukishima eyes widened. “That’s a bit…”  _ Forward _ , he wanted to say.

“Nah, it’s fine. Don’t remember the last time anyone called me Miya. That’s what people call my mom or dad. We were just always Osamu and Atsumu to people. And we even… remember Aran? Aran Ojiro?”

Tsukishima nodded.

“Yeah, so first time we met him we thought his name was so cool, because it sounded foreign, so we made up those nicknames, ‘Samu and ‘Tsumu, to make them sound cooler. And we made people call us by our first names, because foreigners don’t call each other by their last names.”

Tsukishima hummed as he took another bite. There were a few foreign students in Tsukishima’s university but they always kept to japaneses customs and tried to be mindful of them. But between themselves they called each other by their first names like it was nothing.

Maybe only Tsukishima was so sensitive about that. Only his mom and Akiteru called him Kei and it was fine with him.

“Kei is my first name. And some people call me Tsukki, because I can’t make them to stop. But in my case, Tsukishima is perfectly fine.”

“Got it.”

They ate some more, until Tsukishima was close to bursting. And there was so much still left on his plate, he immediately felt bad.

“I’m not a big eater,” he said, when Miya- Osamu shot him a questioning look.

“That’s fine. Are you completely full or do you have some place for desert?”

Tsukishima definitely did not pout. “You didn’t tell me there would be desert.”

“My bad, my bad,” Osamu was not sorry at all. “But I promised you something sweet, didn’t I?”

“Is it more rice?”

“You wound me. Are you calling yourself Japanese while slandering rice?”

“We don’t have to eat rice on every meal in a day. We’re Japanese, we have rice in our blood.”

Miya laughed loudly, putting his plate down on the table, because his shoulders were shaking too much.

For some reason, it was immensely satisfying, to make someone who had an expressionless face most of the time laugh like that. It made Tsukishima feel special.

The whole afternoon, Osamu Miya had made him feel special, comfortable and so, so warm. Tsukishima couldn’t tell if he was a party and beer person because he was so accommodating when Tsukishima said he didn’t like that kind of thing. He prepared a great meal, listen to him ramble about his life that wasn’t even that sad and didn’t do anything to make Tsukishima uncomfortable or defensive at no point that day.

He gave Tsukishima all of his attention and Tsukishima didn’t even felt greedy taking it, like he usually would feel. It was an addicting feeling.

So when Osamu took out the strawberry filled mochi he bought - and he apologized for not being good enough of a cook yet to do that by himself - Tsukishima stood up in front of him and swiped the mochi in his hand with his tongue. He closed his eyes as he was chewing and hummed. It was delicious. The warmth of Osamu’s body made it all the more nicer.

Osamu tiled Tsukishima’s chin down with his fingers down. He swiped the thumb over Tsukishima’s wet bottom lip and it was almost too much. 

Tsukishima finally opened his eyes only to be met with dark ones, deep and hot, with all the attention on him. Osamu moved Tsukishima’s chin closer, slowly, as a question.

Tsukishima was the first to kiss Osamu. His lips tasted of no expectations and a little bit of curry.

Tsukishima fumbled over his own attempts at kissing, but he didn’t even care. He was impatient and enthusiastic and he never kissed anyone properly, and Osamu didn’t make him slow down. He accommodated everything Tsukishima threw at him. He was the one following Tsukishima’s lead and it made him almost dizzy with the rush of blood going down to his cock, just from a kiss.

Tsukishima never felt a rush quite like that. It made him stupid. It made him reckless. It made him claw at Osamu’s scalp and tug his hair just to swallow every groan that left his mouth. It made him try to climb onto him or maybe just push him closer and closer until there was nothing separating them.

Osamu’s big hands slid down excruciatingly slowly, from Tsukishima’s neck to his shoulder blades stopping to caress the hot skin under the hem of his shirt. Tsukishima gasped. No one ever touched him like that before, not his bare skin, not that gentle and not with purpose. Osamu immediately latched onto his neck, biting lightly and sucking. Tsukishima was biting his lip, trying not to embarass himself with all the sounds that were trying to escape.

“Hang on,” Osamu whispered and bit Tsukishima’s ear. He couldn’t think. He squeezed his eyes shut as Osamu was sliding his hands down to his thighs and squeezing. Tsukishima was in the air with a yelp, his hands tightening around Osamu’s neck and his legs around his waist.

“Holy shit,” Tsukishima moaned. Tsukishima was bigger than him. It should be awkward and uncomfortable… right? His cock shouldn’t be rubbing on Osamu’s abs and making him see stars. “Osamu. Bedroom.”

“Yeah.” Osamu chuckled into his neck, gave his pulse point a short peck, before hitching Tsukishima up to get a better grip on his thighs and that’s. Wow.

He carried Tsukishima to the bedroom and let him slide down to the floor. Tsukishima was sure he either would either toss him or lay him gently down on the bed. Before he could get much into analyzing the situations and their personalities, Osamu took of his t-shirt and tossed it onto the floor. He looked at Tsukishima, eyes searching and questioning. He was a short of asking if that was alright or something else equally mindful and nice, but Tsukishima didn’t want to get irritated with confirming pointless things.

So he pushed Osamu back, until he stumbled, his knees hit the edge of the bed and he fell back with a huff of a breath. He looked shocked which made Tsukishima smug and giddy at the same time. When Osamu’s eyes darkened and he licked his lips, Tsukishima didn’t have much time to think about anything else but getting rid of his own shirt. Unbuttoning took ages and he crawled into Osamu’s lap halfway through. Osamu took care of the last few buttons and helped Tsukishima take off the offending garment. 

It was so easy with him. It wasn’t supposed to be that easy. It was never that easy. Tsukishima was petty and stubborn and a buzzkill. He had a normal sex drive, if he did say so himself, but he never went and looked for anyone to have a one night stand with. He felt it was pointless. And yet.

Because that’s what it was, in the end. A one night stand. They didn’t promise each other anything. They didn’t expect anything either. They just liked and were attracted one another. So what if Tsukishima was leaving Tuesday morning. So what if they wouldn’t see each other again. So what if it was just for one night, one or two days. It was comfortable and fun. It was warm.

They didn’t have many things in common, but that didn’t stop them from enjoying themselves. They slept curled up together, legs tablged and Tsukishima’s head tucked into the crook of Osamu’s neck. They refused to kiss each other with their morning breath, they fucked again in the shower and then they ate the leftover curry for breakfast.

They shared the strawberry mochi between them.

They talked about everything and nothing. They went out to the museum and they held hands for the whole tip, snickering at the scandalized looks they were getting.

They went to that gay bar Osamu liked to go sometimes. The bartender was a friend of his or something. Despite it being Tuesday evening there was a drag queen performance which made everybody absolutely crazy. Tsukishima was extremely uncomfortable at first, and overwhelmed, but as the night progressed he loosen up a bit. Partly due to kahlua and milk drinks Osamu bought him - Tsukishima got him a few gaudy cocktails with ridiculous names. He stopped drinking after the second drink. He liked the buzz, but he didn’t want to get drunk enough to be unaware of his surroundings.

Some guys came up and asked them to dance. Tsukishima was intimidated by their tight jeans and revealing shirts, as well as their colored hair and piercings. But mostly by how outspoken and loud they were. But he agreed because apparently Osaka was a place for trying new things and finding they were more enjoyable that he ever thought.

They danced half a night, sometimes together, sometimes with complete strangers that were rubbing up all over him but they were also laughing and singing, and they didn’t made him feel awkward or inadequate at all.

They ended up at Osamu’s place at three or four, kissing and touching in the hallway, couldn’t wait to get inside. As soon as they fell on the bed, they were out like a light, even one piece of clothing didn’t ended up on the floor.

They woke up too late. Tsukishima had to rush to get his suitcase and check out of his hotel. Osamu took him there in his old truck he used mostly for deliveries. He knew all the shortcuts and he was driving faster than Tsukishima would like but he was a responsible driver, so he let that slide. They barely made it to the airport. 

Tsukishima shoved a tongue in his mouth before either of them could say anything. He was sad to let him go, but eventually they parted.

“Good luck,” Osamu said, pecking him on the lips again, a chaste and warm thing.

Tsukishima smiled brightly at him. “See you around,” he breathed out. Tsukishima didn’t believe in luck. He knew he didn’t need it.

Because he will try and make sure that whatever life throws at him, whatever he decides or doesn’t decide, he’ll be alright, even it may not feel like it right now.

And he’ll make sure to unwind once in a while.

***

Tsukishima chin was resting on his fist, legs crossed as he waited for Yamaguchi to come back. 

He didn’t have to wait long.

“Tsukki, I got ‘em! And it really was Osamu-san from the Miya twins! Isn’t that amazing?” Yamaguchi shouted, Yachi behind him. They didn’t see her in a few weeks. She didn’t change much but still, it’s been a while. “Anyway, do you want a beer? I saw a vendor walking down the aisles?”

“No, I only drink kahlua and milk. And I’ve told you, I refuse to drink with anyone who doesn’t appreciate that. Besides, I told it was him. Why are you so surprised?”

Yamaguchi plopped down next to him. Yachi took a seat more gracefully.

“To be fair, I totally thought you made that up to mess with me. And it’s different seeing him in person! He even recognized me for my mean jump floater! And asked if I’m buying something for you.”

He took the packet of strawberry flavored onigiri and gave it to Tsukishima, who scowled down on it. “I told him I’m not that hungry.” 

He tried to suppress a smile, but from Yamaguchi’s teasing grin, he knew he failed.

“You can give it to me, you know. I was so nervous before coming here that I didn’t eat anything. Now it’s catching up to me.”

Tsukishima monouvred it to put the packet beside him on the bench, so Yamaguchi couldn’t reach it. “I might get hungry later.”

Yamaguchi snickered next to him, while Yachi looked quite lost.

Tsukishima covered his mouth with his hand and smiled, a small private smile he didn’t want anyone to see in public.

But now.

The game was starting.

**Author's Note:**

> \- I started this fic knowing nothing about the characters, only making my own fears and feelings of loneliness as a basis of this. I let out this story in 2k words everyday since whenever I started last week. It was flowing so easily through me it was quite scary haha. I started it in a bad place listening to depressing slow songs and ended up on a positive [Hikariare (moonlight version)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VzM6U_95iCU) which is my favorite hq related song and it fills me with so much hope and all happy mushy feels!
> 
> \- I also had in mind to explore the idea of loneliness in Tsukishima as opposed to Hinata. There was always this dichotomy going on between them, as the sun and the moon. So I found it fascinating that their experiences reflect each other. Hinata is lonely away from home, from his family and friends in Brazil, while Tsukishima is lonely in his hometown, surrounded by familiar things and his friends
> 
> \- I don't have an answer to the problem Tsukishima has and the last thing I was trying to do is preach. I only know that meeting Osamu helped him in a way. Maybe not figure out everything but at least not be so afraid of the future. And to take his life in his own hands. So they take away I want you to take from this is that it will get better. And maybe to not wait for happiness or luck, you need it to help it a bit
> 
> \- I also wrote this halfway through when I finally had an idea where I'm going with this story: Tsukishima hates being pushed and he hates to push. He hates appearing as too clingy or as if he cared too much (headcanon: he lowkey blames himself for his father leaving their family when he was little, and then blames himself for latching onto Akiteru). He hates when his views are challenged. And he feels like he’s being attacked, like that mentioned firefly, he becomes bitter and spiteful so no one will touch him again second time. I believe he needs to be pushed just the right amount out of his comfort zone, but he can really let himself have nice things and change WHILE he's also to put more work into that himself. I wanted to explore the theme of expectations. He outwardly defies expectations, he does what he wants to, plays volleyball and all, but his battle is internal and it has always been. I thought it was just the beginning of his journey of self-discover and letting himself be happy and it fit so well with what I believe Osamu’s personality is. He’s so chill, laid-back. He’s the ice to Atsumu’s fire. And, as he said, he wants to be a kind person. And he’s so not judging That’s why I thought the tightly-wound, caged Tsukishima would find joy in interacting with someone who let him set the pace, take the lead. Someone he can never truly be - Osamu is confident, knows exactly who he is, what he wants to do and he knew that for a long time, basically never wavers. He loves food and when an opportunity arises, he takes it. As opposed to Tsukishima who is unsure of everything and overthinks everything. And they're so different. Tsuki doesn’t like to eat much and doesn’t like rice that much, it was never meant to be. But they find comfort in each other for a little while. And that’s something special to both of them. A moment where no one sees them, no one knows them, they just do what they want and enjoy each other in the midst of school and work and the looming future. 
> 
> \- The story is just a small point in time but very significant and I loved that, especially because I don't always get to write snippets of life like that. I always make everything too long and dark haha
> 
> \- And sorry for the fade to black sex scene. It was my first time writing this and while I decided to do it because it was a huge part of who Tsukishima was and him accepting a huge part of himself, I didn't want to take away from what he was feeling with s drawn out sex scene written by an amateur
> 
> \- ALSO if you're wondering where the title came from and why does it sound familiar? It was from a thing Osamu said to Atsumu in Chapter 279 - "The thing is, Atsumu when it comes to the love of the game...that flame burns a bit brighter in you than in me, you know?". I was uncertain if I want to use this quote or the one about hunger, but I found this one fit with the theme of light and warmth and fireflies. And Inarizaki is supposed to be a power house school from Hyogo Prefecture and my thought process was that they are probably from a bigger city in that area. The largest city there is Kobe, so that's where Inarizaki High is and the Miya Twins live. And I wanted Osamu to move out somewhere, so Osaka it is. Close but away from home.
> 
> \--------------------
> 
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